By the time he felt comfortable enough to stop, Soul was thoroughly exhausted. Maka reassured him that she didn't release the DWMA squad until they had put at least 650 miles between them and Soul had contented himself with images of the mighty Shinigami pissing his pants from having been frozen for over 8 hours. They'd crossed the border on an unknown back road and were now in the middle of bumfuck Canada and some rundown motel called the 'Roaming Beaver'. Soul for the life of him couldn't figure out who the hell would name a motel something so ridiculous, but they took cash and they didn't ask your name, which made it perfect no matter what it was named.

The room could be described as 'threadbare' or 'out of date' at best. The lack of comforter meant that the only blankets each of the full size beds had were dingy, off-white sheets covered with the scratchy brown blankets. Maka sank on to the furthest of the two twin beds and leaned her elbows on her knees. After drawing the curtains and dropping his bag on the bed, Soul caught the hem of his shirt with his fingers and puled it over his head. He saw Maka's head whip up and her eyes widen as she took in the expanse of his chest. Satisfaction bloomed warmly in him as he watched her eyes traveled from his face down his shoulders, across his six pack abs and landed on his hand which were now unbuttoning his low slung jeans.

He could barely hold back his mug grin as her pupils dilated and her breathing came shallow. Sure, he was flexing but even without flexing Soul knew he was one cut motherfucker. Soul had filed out his height and you didn't work in his line of work without picking up some serious strength. Often the difference between a peaceful resolution and a knock-down brawl was how intimidating you could look. Sure, Soul knew that his blood red eyes and sharp teeth helped, but filling out his six foot plus frame usually sealed the deal. What that translated to was wide shoulders, curved biceps and a hard V over his hipbones that wrapped a package that he knew the ladies liked. While his love for Maka remained strong, ten years is a long time and he wasn't a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, although a woman never graced his bed for more than 2 hours and never more than once.

"What are you doing?" Maka managed to squeak out as his strong hands lowered the zipper on his jeans.

She was proud of herself that she was able to get out a whole sentence, because her brain seemed to have stopped functioning completely the second Soul shed his shirt. His skin was lightly tanned and smooth. There was a line of faint hair that started at the bottom of his navel and disappeared into what she now could see were black boxer briefs. As his jeans slid down his muscular thighs, she noted just how short they were and what a poor job they were doing leaving anything to the imagination. She knew she should look away, but she couldn't. Standing in front of her was every wet dream she had ever had.

"I need to clean this wound and dress it, not to mention put on some clean clothes since these are covered in blood. Why? See something you like?"

Soul's voice finally broke the spell, and she snapped her eyes to his. They crinkled slightly at the corners in amusement, riling her anger.

"You wish." Maka turned her head away from him towards the bathroom, so she didn't see him until it was too late.

He had crossed the room and pushed his face close to hers, forcing her to jerk back. He kept leaning closer, slowly but forcefully, causing her to recline all the way back on the bed until she could feel it beneath her back. His uninjured leg forced its way between her thighs, kneeling on the edge of the bed until it pressed firmly against the juncture between her legs. His hands landed on the comforter, his elbows bending as he lowered himself down on top of her, not giving her his weight, but close enough hat she could feel the heat of him through her thin shirt. Her breath caught in her lungs and her hands reached automatically to his shoulders, not to push him away but to curl lightly of the top. He lowered his head, placing his lips against the shell of her ear and whispered

"You're right Maka. I DO wish."

Then just as suddenly as he was on top of her, he was gone, disappearing into the bathroom and Maka felt something she hadn't felt in over 10 years, desire. Her hands trembled as she pushed herself upright and the breath she had been holding rushed out of her on a whispered word.

"Fuck."